


Child's Courage

by Kaiosea



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Sexual Content, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 04:27:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3922864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiosea/pseuds/Kaiosea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The way you put the knife in is like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Child's Courage

**Author's Note:**

> Tried a new writing style for this. No manga spoilers although it has more meaning if you’ve read ch40. Talk to me about Annie/Ymir!

The way you put the knife in is like this. 

Flip it around your wrist, because the last thing you want is to have it taken from you. Follow through on the offensive. The knife comes last. When you’ve exhausted your opponents, lunge for what soft area is least protected. 

The easiest is not the heart, but the throat. 

Be aware that when they’re cornered, they won’t attack like the humans they are, more like rapacious animals. Though even animals have more sense than to fight when they’re outnumbered, one to one. 

Quick! Now, with the knife, you—

Thrust. 

Twist. 

The twist is so you hit the maximum number of internal organs. 

That was what Annie’s father had said. 

“You’ve cut yourself. You should be more careful.” 

As he spoke, she heard him say something else: 

Because injury makes you less sharp. More disposable. 

“So can I hold it in my right hand?” 

“Not until you accurately control it in your left.” 

Hold your grip tighter, and make a fist. 

“Better.” 

She would not smile. She listened. 

This, too, made an impression:

“You’re a child. I do not wish to see you hurt.” 

Nod, turn, and slash. 

This is why you’re holding a knife. So you don’t get hurt. You’re a valuable child. 

“If you get it in and thrust, they’ll beg you, Annie.” 

“I don’t want to make them beg.” 

“At least listen to their offers before you twist. Now look, you scratched yourself.”

Her hand was taken from her, and her father watched it heal. The healing was a gift from him, new and excruciating, but she knew she was not to get hurt. 

In the future, when the time came, she didn’t give them a chance to beg. 

The things you need courage for when you’re young are different than when you’re older. 

“Because I love you,” she heard two of the recruits say to each other over supper. 

Each touched the other’s hand while they ate. They said their secrets where anyone could hear. 

There were others who kissed in corridors, who shared their meals, or who laughed in unison.

It was too casual. 

Some—not many, but some—received letters. 

Sleeping in a crowd of people all locked into their beds, that was another kind of unbearable nothingness. 

Annie could hear when Ymir got up at night. 

Ymir sometimes smiled at Annie, always more of a smirk. She was not harmless, but she never made trouble for Annie or tried to speak to her with others around. 

Annie remembered her father had said it, too: 

“Because I love you.”

Nod, turn, and slash. 

It was a sublime gift, that of love. It had curdled, but it continued to force her hand. 

A gift from the heart can never be shed. 

This is how you put the knife in when you lack a knife. 

The recruits thought they were cryptic with their wounds, but clothes could only cover bodies. It was easy to tell when someone held a secret; it colored their movements, made their steps messy instead of pure. 

Ymir walked like a cat, slippery and light. 

It was why Annie talked to her least of anyone. 

Information that others have of you, in their hands it is power for the wielding. 

Ymir had long fingers and short nails, and Annie wanted to leave nothing in her hands except her body. 

Annie sometimes followed Ymir at night. 

Outside, in the grass, trousers kicked off, her knees hoisted to Ymir’s waist, ankles pointing higher—

Ymir’s head, bending to taste. Her lips, slick. Her hands gripped Annie’s ass, and Annie let herself be hauled. 

Having a physical body was useless and frustrating, still it could remind her she was alive.

“Like it?” 

Annie huffed, fists clenched on the ground. Ymir already knew the answer, but people who had secrets reveled in sharing truths. 

“You know I like it—”

Not in spite of but because of her secrets, because she’d never possess them. 

Ymir slung Annie’s legs higher over her shoulders, tipping her further vertical, and continued with her wet mouth. 

The world was upside-down, and it shook when she came. Up close in her vision, the blades of grass were individual and myriad. 

For Ymir’s turn, Annie used her hands. 

About fingers—Annie’s were short, stubbly. Reliable with their thick knuckles. Bad for holding a knife. 

But they could still—

Thrust. 

Twist. 

Ymir usually preferred to be above her, so the times she was laid on her back, receptive and sweating, dark bangs wisping away from her scalp, were truly the sweetest. 

The twist is so you make her scream. 

Annie’s fingers were short, but long enough. Thick, so she could fit only two inside Ymir. Her thumb walked the side of Ymir’s clit and applied pressure. 

Ymir refused to scream. 

Annie could appreciate the noises she did make: grunts, a few; ragged breaths, continuous; moans, several. Five minutes passed like this. 

The movements of Ymir’s body were as such: ache, tense, spasm, relax. 

There was no begging to be heard. 

It did end with a kiss, neither reluctant nor eager. 

They’d subdued the blades of grass beneath them. Their thighs were wet with dew and muddled with dirt. 

“Good,” said Ymir. She re-tied her hair, sweeping it from the nape of her neck. 

There was a knife taped to the inside of Annie’s shirt, and it hung cold against her heart after she slipped the garment back on. “Was it?” 

“Well, because I don’t love you,” Ymir winked. “You can always trust I’ll tell you the truth.” 

“You’ll tell me nothing,” Annie said. 

Ymir smiled because it was true and they reveled in it, and she wiped her mouth. 

They stood and parted in opposite directions, not yet for the last time. 

A gift from the heart can never be shed. Annie knew the giving to be too dear for the reward. 

If they’ve got a knife, and you’ve got nothing, you take it from them—no matter the cost.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://kaiosea.tumblr.com/post/118813032900/childs-courage-annie-ymir)


End file.
